Her mind spun with excuses to dismiss Janson, but nothing seemed plausible. Maybe—
“I’ve been meaning to thank you,” Janson said.
Amryn glanced over at him, caught off guard. “For what?”
“For showing kindness to Berron. He certainly doesn’t make it easy,” he added, a dry sort of amusement in his voice. And yet the affection he felt for Berron was clear as he said, “Believe it or not, he was even more angry and depressed when I first met him. I like to think I’ve made some progress with him, but I believe your attempts at befriending him have had a far bigger impact.”
Surprise caught her. “He told you I’ve been befriending him?”
The corner of Janson’s mouth lifted. “Not in so many words. But he’s mentioned you several times, and there was never a bit of loathing. For Berron, that means something.”
Despite the circumstances, the revelation spread warmth through her chest. “I’m glad.” She hesitated, then added, “You truly have helped him. I know he respects and admires you. And I think it helps, giving him some way to fight back against thesonnedealers.”
The skin around Janson’s eyes tightened. “Itdoeshelp,” he said, and she knew he spoke from personal experience. Carver had told her about the chancellor’s wife’s addiction tosonne, and her subsequent death. It explained the deep, personal need she sensed in Janson to destroy thesonnetrade. He worked to the point of obsession—even leaving the emperor’s ball to question a prisoner, it seemed.
Painfully aware of the rebels behind her, she said, “I truly didn’t mean to keep you. Your work is important.”
“It is,” he agreed. “I’ll return to it soon enough.”
She opened her mouth to try again, but the guard leading them announced that they’d reached the lowest level of the prison.
Her pulse kicked as they paused before a locked door, where another guard had to let them in. An extra security measure for the most secure prisoners. The air here was stale and cold. Amryn couldn’t help but shiver.
Janson noticed. “Your gown is lovely, but perhaps not the best choice for an excursion into the prison.”
She returned his small smile, even as she rubbed her hands over her bare arms. “Perhaps not.”
Please hurry, Carver . . .
The door swung open, revealing a corridor of cells. The guard who had been guiding them into the prison walked up to her. “He’s in the second cell on the left.” He must have seen her nervousness, because he was quick to say, “You’ll be perfectly safe, Lady Vincetti.”
“She will be,” Janson agreed. And then he stabbed the guard in the gut.
Amryn recoiled, the pain piercing deeply even as shock slammed into her.
The three rebels rushed forward, overpowering the second guard too easily. Amryn gasped when she felt a knife once again tear into flesh.
Then Janson ripped the blade out of the dying man’s stomach, and Amryn sucked in a pained breath. The guard stumbled and fell to his knees. Breathing hard, his trembling hands clutched against his bleeding abdomen, he looked up at Janson. “Wh-Why?”
Janson said nothing. Just slit the man’s throat.
Even with the bloodstone muting the emotions around her, Amryn tasted bile as the man died. When his body toppled to the floor, Janson turned to face her.
She barely recognized him. He had the same face, and yet it looked totally different to her now. Janson’s eyes were shadowed. The grooves around his mouth were deeper. And the lack of expression on his face was chilling.
“Apologies, Lady Vincetti,” he said. “I know it’s grisly work, but sometimes sacrifices must be made.”
Chapter 58
Carver
Carvercouldn’tignorehisgrowing unease as he hid in the darkness of the emperor’s treasury. With no windows, and Keats’ brusque order to douse their lanterns once they’d gotten into position, Carver couldn’t see his hand in front of his face. The only thing that kept him grounded was his palm pressed against the wooden base of the large display case in front of him, which he knew would completely shield him and Ford from the rebels’ view.
The darkness would be a weakness when the Rising arrived with their lanterns to steal the Dagger of Hafsin. Carver and the other soldiers would be momentarily blinded by the light, but it was the cost they had to pay for setting this trap. The ambush would only work if the rebels gathered around the case that held the dagger—something they wouldn’t do if they caught a hint of light and realized someone else was in the treasury.
In the pervasive darkness, Carver heard the faint sounds of men breathing evenly around him, along with the occasional whisper of fabric or light scuff of a boot as a new stance was taken. The soldiers were all hidden among the room’s many displays, just as Carver was. But he doubted they felt the same level of nerves he did.
With every second that ticked by, Carver’s tension mounted.
